a short crime

a short time 

it took to shake my potential

from my head to toe 

from force to flow 

still i stood upright. 

a short crime 

it needs to be called 

if knives are fit on her

bed corners while she's asleep

without her consent. 

a short line 

it looked while drawing

between my fault and fragility

to trigger red buttons 

of my endless existence. 

a short sign

it meant as her funeral said

that she ended herself by

hating pigmentation stained

in not so distant direction. 

a short poem 

it wrote to erase the 

long story needed 

to be on stone inscription 

existing for ages and 

deciphered by sages. 

- chetna 🌻